“That sums it up. Grady and Luke are reworking the two murders from scratch, along with Rachel’s abduction. They’re looking for a connection to Mike or anything that would lead to a new suspect.”
“Then you and I should stay with Nolan. Let’s assume he faked his own death.” Avery took a step backward and leaned against her desk. “If Nolan wanted to move back to Union County and not be recognized, he’d have plastic surgery to change his appearance. He’d obtain a fake ID. Essentially, he’d wipe the slate clean.”
Weston nodded. “With the right surgeon, he could look completely different. Nolan could be anyone.”
“Does he have the funds for that?”
“He does. Nolan inherited a lot of money from his maternal grandparents. According to the family members I spoke to, the money was moved to an offshore account.”
They really were chasing a ghost. Avery rubbed her forehead. “What do we know about Nolan’s activities here in Union County?”
“Not much. After Jack died, Nolan never came back. However, he was arrested a few times here in his twenties.”
“What for?”
Weston reached around her and pulled over his file folder. “Once for drugs. A couple of times for petty theft. He never served jail time.”
“Anyone get arrested with him?”
Weston frowned. “Yeah, one guy. Tom Belvin. I was about to run him through the system—”
She shot to her feet. “No need. I know who he is. Tom Belvin is the mailman we talked to outside of Debra’s house. What were Nolan and Tom arrested for?”
“That was the drug charge. Officer pulled them over for a traffic stop and found marijuana in the car.”
Her mind raced, different possibilities pulling at her attention. “Who was the arresting officer?”
Weston flipped the page. His mouth tightened. “Mike Steel.”
Weston followed Avery through the Union County Post Office to the sorting room. His boots tapped against the sealed concrete floor. The building was chilly, and the postal worker leading them to Tom Belvin wore fingerless gloves.
“Hey, Tom.” She knocked on the open doorway frame. “You’ve got visitors.” The worker turned to Weston and whispered, “I’ll make sure no one comes back here for the next fifteen minutes.”
“Appreciate it.” He gave a sharp nod before stepping into the room.
It was windowless, the fluorescent lights overhead creating harsh brights and shadows. Tom paused, his hand hovering over a bucket of mail. It appeared he was sorting his portion for delivery.
“Hi, Avery.” Tom’s brow crinkled. “And…Weston, right?”
“Good memory.” Weston smiled, attempting to put the other man at ease. “Sorry to interrupt you while you’re working, but there have been developments in Debra’s case. We wanted to talk to you again.”
“I heard about her boyfriend Victor Haas on the news.” Tom placed some letters into the carton. “If you’re looking for additional information about him, I can’t tell you anything more.”
“We need to ask about someone else. Nolan Starin.”
Tom froze before slowly turning to face them. “Isn’t he dead?”
Weston studied the other man. There was something in the curve of his mouth and the furrow of his brow. Forced surprise, maybe? Tom’s reaction didn’t come off as genuine.
“Technically, he’s classified as missing.” Weston left out the presumed-dead part. He wanted to gauge how much Tom knew. “When’s the last time you saw or spoke to Nolan?”
His gaze darted to Avery before focusing back on Weston. “Uhhh, musta been close to twenty years now.”
“Then why did you think he was dead?”
“My mom. She’s a news junky and all over social media. She read about it or something and mentioned it to me. But I swear, Mom told me Nolan was dead. Why are you asking about him?” He stiffened. “Is this connected to the murders? Another woman was taken this morning, right? I saw it on TV.”
Avery showed him a photograph of Rachel Long. “Do you know her?”
Tom fiddled with a button on his uniform as his gaze dropped to the picture. “Yeah, that’s Rachel. She works at the crisis center. When I deliver certified letters, sometimes she’ll sign for them.”
A knot formed in Weston’s stomach. Tom admitted knowing Debra Channing and now Rachel Long. He’d been friends with Nolan twenty years ago. That gave him person-of-interest status. Maybe he was the one pinning these murders on Nolan.
“You mentioned the last time you saw or spoke to Nolan was twenty years ago,” Weston said, keeping his tone casual. “That was around the time his father, Jack Starin, died.”
Tom grabbed some more letters and tossed them in the bucket without looking at them. “Yeah.”
“Were you and Nolan good friends?”
“Nolan didn’t have friends.” Tom’s mouth hardened. “He was a bully and a creep. When he left town, it was a blessing.”
“Why is that?” Weston asked.
Tom’s hand tightened on the mail bucket. “Because Nolan was one scary guy. Even back then when we were young. His dad, well, you know what he did. Attacking a woman and nearly killing her. What’s that old saying? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. That was Nolan. He was a killer in training.”
Avery tilted her head. “If Nolan was so terrifying, why did you hang out with him?”
Tom’s shoulders sagged, and he scrubbed a hand through his thinning blond hair. “My parents were good people, but I got mixed up in the wrong crowd in high school. Nolan didn’t live in Union County, but he spent the summers here. He was incredibly smart and excellent at manipulating people.” He drew in a breath. “Nolan wanted me to steal from my parents. I refused. The next day, my dog…my dog was nailed to a tree in my backyard. He’d been torn apart. Nolan did it to teach me a lesson. Once you were in his web, it was impossible to get out.”
“Why
